For the Rest of my Life
by Tillandae
Summary: Will you marry me? For all of our lives?A set of drabbles that will have our characters asking that dreaded and anticipated question. Mostly HarryDraco or HD and a little bit of RonHermione down the road.
1. Too Late

Disclaimer: I don't own the Harry Potter universe. My creativity isn't that wide nor is it that magnificent. But this plot is mine. Mwuahh, hah hahh... eh, reviews are very much appreciated. No reviews and you starve the author... . . Wouldn't want to starve me, would you?

He looked down at the grave, at the white plain stone that etched all regrets and mistakes laid for all to see. Marked on that stone for him to visit again and again were the three sentences that identified the fallen warrior.

_Draco __Malfoy. _

_Shadow tha__t __warded __the dark,_

_Hero among the vipers._

Recognized too late.

Harry stirred against the wind that disturbed his silent vigil, "Will you marry me?" There, it was now uttered. A question he has wanted to ask ever since time immemorial. Too late. Too late. He raised his hand, settled it on the markings, straining, straining for that reply.

He waited at the space between them, at Draco's body beneath him. Beneath him. He laid down on the ground and strained his ears.

"Will you marry me?" The question reverberated inside him. The question escaped outside as tears when the space stayed silent. It was too late and yet Harry stayed.


	2. Bind to Me

Harry measures the space between them, an eternity apart. Tries to gnaw at the aloofness that hides Draco from him. Down at the grave that created all this. They arrived too late, too late, as the killing curse fell on the ground. Taking the body of their savior. Their friend. His mentor,

_Severus __Snape_

_With a deft touch and calculating eyes,_

_He measured__ and saved us_

His mind urges him to give Draco space, more space, and maintain the distance. But the wind is insistent. It wants for them to cross the space. Take it away. And as if compelled by the wind that surrounds them, Harry shuffles his feet. Side to side, yet not moving forward. He glances down to his shoelaces. Dark and unforgiving. He drags his gaze from the ground to look at Draco. He exhales his breath and says...

"Will you marry me?"

Draco glances up, shadows marring his silver eyes, "What?"

"Marry me, I said."

Taking a step, Draco lessens the distance between them. "What?"

"Don't ask me to repeat it again. Marry me."

"Is that a command, Potter?" The curiosity now replaces the dark, chases the shadow.

"Yes… and a plea. Marry me." _Stay with me.__ Don't go to him._

"Where's the ring?"

_Yes, a ring will bind you to me. It will never take you away._

"Here. It's always been right here."


	3. The Dare

Author's Note: This little piece is dedicated to Lorna Badeau without whom the little story wouldn't have been created. Thanks for being curious enough to ask

And now, onward with the story.

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Screwing up the courage needed for the task, Draco pushes away his mutilated lemon mousse and stands up from the Slytherin table. Taking a quick glance to make sure that the Gryffindors are still enjoying the last pieces of their desserts, he darts forward for his grand entrance. It's just a shame to let them savor what has been denied to him, he decides.

Upon arriving in front of the almighty trio, he takes a steady breath and looks to their right. His eyes finally hold the firm and blank glare of the girl sitting next to them. Taking another firm breath, he declares, "Ginevra Weasley, by the wraiths of Slytherins past and present, I challenge you to a Wizard's Duel. Accept and retribution may be ours. Deny and suffer."

Hearing the solemn oath, Ginny stands up without losing her focus on him and responds just as appropriately, "I, Ginevra Weasley, do accept your challenge, Draco Malfoy. State the destination and I shall confront you at this very time."

Seconds after he said where they would meet, students upon their hearing distance decides to follow. By now, hordes of students begin their march towards the North hall with Draco, Ginny and the almighty trio leading the front. At the center of the tiled hall, both Ginny and Draco face 

each other. After taking ten steps away from each other, they bow to signal the start of the march.

Trying to still his movements, Draco takes in another breath and prepares himself. Before he takes it out, however, he hears the first and only volley of incantations.

Seeing her opening, Ginny shouts, "_Amiciri indulae! Amiciri insignae!"_

With pleasure and a douse of amusement, she watches as her spell manifests. Instead of wearing black trousers along with his usually immaculate white shirt, Draco is now wearing a pink tutu along with a glass-clustered tiara.

Feeling the tiara slipping from his head, an uncontrollable tick develops around his eyes. Sighing and cursing the very fates that put him there, he glances away from Ginny and looks at the now pleased stare of his green-eyed lover. _I'll pluck your eyeballs out, you green freak, _he thinks to himself.

Out loud, Draco says, "Now, will you marry me, you glibbering, monstrous of an oaf?!"

Wincing to himself, again, he thinks that it isn't such a good way to offer his hand in marriage. As if said green-eyed lover shares his opinion about the affair, Harry smoothly responds, "Now, wouldn't I be foolish to give my hand to someone who insults me?"

For a thousandth time, Draco draws a martyr of a breath, tries to articulate his question more romantically. After the snickers of the students dancing around the silence, he finally takes the 

tiara from his head and throws it at Harry. Before the tiara hits Harry, however, he transfigures the tiara into a sun-dewed rose and stuns it there. As Harry reaches for it, on the other hand, Draco beats him and he slaps the rose at Harry's face instead. After three more slaps—one for his shattered dignity, one because he really is beginning to get cold, and one just for the sake of it—he finally lets Harry have the rose.

Smiling at Draco, Harry takes the rose in his hand. That smile, however, transforms into that wrinkling grin that is all Harry as he discovers what the rose is hiding: a marriage ring. He continues to grin as the golden band begins to glow. Finally, he grabs a fistful of Draco's shirt and embraces him.

Pulling him back, he takes one more appreciative glance at Draco and says, "You really do make a dashing ballet dancer."

"Yes, the whole school already knows you're a pervert with disgusting kinks, Harry. Now marry me or you really will find yourself without your precious balls."

"And the whole school also knows that you're the pointiest idiot for not knowing that the answer is already a yes," Harry says beguilingly. And before Draco could make a snappish response, Harry gathers him in his arms again. "You really needn't have taken up the dare, Draco. It was just for Ron's benefit."



If Harry could see Draco's eyes, he would have been able to stop Draco from retaliating or at least warned Ron of his fate. Sadly as it was, he was busy embracing his lover and thinking, _yes,I'llhavehimhe'llhavemehelovesmehelovesme_. Suffice it to say, Draco finally feels more than happy as he listens to Ron's terrified moan of, "Hermione! Tencacles! There're spiders crawling in my shirt!!"

Latin translations:

Dressamiciri

Skirtinduculae

Tiarainsignae


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